


Māyin

by avani



Category: Baahubali (Movies)
Genre: AKA the magic monkey verse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, The Author Regrets Nothing, reposted from tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-12 00:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13536114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avani/pseuds/avani
Summary: Shivu meets the monkey when he’s five years old.





	Māyin

Shivu meets the monkey when he’s five years old.

Mother doesn’t care for monkeys, calling them dirty and dangerous; but then again, Mother doesn’t care for climbing, either, or the waterfall, or anything at all that brings Shivu pleasure. It stands to reason, therefore, that monkeys are in fact something that Shivu, far from avoiding, should seek out.

So when the monkey stops short on the branch to stare at him, Shivu doesn’t think twice about waving his hand in greeting. After a moment, the monkey waves back.

It’s a polite monkey! Shivu thinks, delighted, and dares to step closer. 

The monkey stays on his branch, but that’s all right; Shivu knows how to climb. He settles on the branch just opposite the monkey and says, “Hello.”

The monkey nods. 

“My name’s Shivu.”

The monkey bares its teeth, but Shivu doesn’t think it’s angry. Instead it almost seems as though it might be….laughing?

“It’s a nice name!” he says indignantly, but that does nothing to stop the monkey’s mirth.

 “I know you don’t have a name,” Shivu shouts over the monkey’s hoots, “since you’re just a monkey.”

That does the trick. The monkey falls back into silence and studies him as solemnly as a monkey can. 

He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything else, he hears Mother’s shouts.

“I have to go,” he apologizes instead. “If I’m not home for dinner, Mother will tear down the entire forest searching for me.”

The monkey nods, as though that’s only to be expected. Shivu supposes monkey mothers must be just as bad. 

“I’ll come and see you tomorrow, though!” he calls as he scrambles down the tree. “If you’ll be here?”

He doesn’t have time to see what response the monkey makes, if any. He hopes it’s a yes.

*

It must have been, because when he sneaks into the forest the next morning, the monkey is there, in the same tree, waiting for him. It hoots gently when it sees him, and Shivu smiles.

“I brought you food,” he says, offering a packet wrapped in leaves. “Are you hungry?” Mother always says monkeys steal food, so they must like the things humans eat. At least so Shivu assumes. 

The monkey must agree, because it climbs down from its tree cautiously. It takes the packet, but doesn’t seem to pay it much attention, which is a little disappointing; Shivu had so hoped that it would like the food. Instead the monkey’s eyes are fixed on Shivu; slowly, it raises one of its paws to rest on Shivu’s head in blessing.

Which is exactly what Shivu wanted.

In Mother’s stories, after all, whenever one was kind to animals, they always turned out to be magical and essential in achieving one’s heart’s desire.

And who better than a monkey to help him get up the waterfall?

*

It takes longer than Shivu expects.

The monkey is shy, for one thing. It doesn’t come out when others are around. Shivu can’t blame it; from all the grumbles and grousing he hears from others about monkeys, he supposes he would be just as loath to seek human company were he simian.

Also the monkey turns out not to be magical at all, or at least if it is, be very very good at hiding the fact. For some reason, it likes to pull Shivu towards the strange boulder to the side of the waterfall and point at it significantly; and it always, always closes its eyes in frustration when Shivu gently disengages himself and makes for the waterfall instead.

If it weren’t for the fact that Mother doesn’t care for monkeys, Shivu would introduce both of them. He thinks they’d find they have rather a lot in common. No matter. He’ll prove them both wrong when he makes it to the top of the waterfall, and today might well be the day–

He tenses. He springs. He falls.

Above him, the monkey claps a paw to its forehead.

*

“How long do monkeys live, Mother?” asks Shivu.

“Too long,” grumbles Mother, but Father realizes that he’s serious.

“I can’t say that I’ve seen the same one for longer than twenty-five years at best,” he replies, “and that’s if a jackal or dhole doesn’t find them first. But why do you ask, Shivu?”

“No reason in particular.” But Shivu has to turn away to hide his sudden horror. The monkey hadn’t seemed particularly young when he had met it, and that was twenty years previous. True, it doesn’t seem particularly frail now, but then again, it had always been gray all over, and who knew if monkeys were different?

Jackals and dholes he can protect against. Before old age he is helpless.

*

The monkey makes a rare appearance in public the day he carries the Siva lingam across the falls for Mother’s sake. No one else notices it, thankfully; but Shivu’s elation at his achievement wouldn’t be complete without the monkey there to beam down at him.

It certainly seems to think he’s celebrated long enough, if the hard object it throws at him is any indication. Shivu looks around worriedly, but everyone else in the village seems to assume whatever-it-was is simply carried downriver by the rapids, which leaves Shivu free to scowl even as he picks it up out of sheer curiosity. 

It’s a mask, of all things, and it doesn’t  _seem_  like the sort of thing a demon would wear. He looks back at the monkey, and it only jabs one finger upwards in a silent command.

* 

The monkey finds him on the ledge just below the top of the waterfall. “About time you joined me,” Shivu tells it, and the monkey shrugs, looking smug.

“Not all of us can scramble up any surface we please,” Shivu reminds it and goes back to twisting his branches and creepers into a makeshift bow.

The monkey lets out a curious hum at his actions. Admittedly creating such tools and having the monkey howl and gesture at him until Shivu worked out how to use them had been one of their favorite games together when Shivu was only a boy, but clearly the monkey can’t see why he’s indulging in such a pastime now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Shivu says, testing the bow one last time before stepping out onto the edge, “I’m quite certain this will work.”

The monkey bares its teeth in sheer rage–or panic, but too late. Shivu bounds off the ledge, bow in hand.

“Or,” adds Shivu, mostly to himself, “if it doesn’t, I doubt I’ll survive to see the consequences.”

He aims his arrow to the sounds of the monkey’s angry cries.

*

The monkey is no more pleased with him at the top of the waterfall. Shivu is in no fine mood himself; the woman of his dreams has disappeared, and he hasn’t the slightest idea where to find her in reality. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” Shivu demands, but the monkey still refuses to look at him as it crawls stiffly beside him.

That’s when they hear the sounds of the battle–and, before Shivu’s wonderstruck eyes, a woman-- _the_ woman-- comes charging out with soldiers in pursuit: soldiers that she dispatches efficiently and ruthlessly. 

“Oh God,” he breathes, awestruck, and the monkey grumbles in response. When Shivu turns to look at it, however, it only seems resigned.

*

“Her name’s Avantika,” Shivu tells the monkey happily, returned from a night of….gathering information about his paramour. “And she’s from Kuntala, and she’s wonderful, and I’m going to marry her as soon as I can.”

The monkey makes the sort of indulgent noises Mother does sometimes when she thinks Shivu is being particularly stupid, beckoning him closer to the fire.

And….fire? Do monkeys even know how to make fires? Clever monkey, to find a fire someone else had created and to frighten him away; obviously that is what must have happened.

Satisfied, Shivu continues: “I should probably tell her my name first, though don’t you think? It might make the wedding easier, and, and– what’s this?” The monkey is tucking a jacket around him, brushing the snow out of his hair. 

“Did you steal this?”

The monkey shrugs, unconcerned.

“Well, I suppose they’re not using it at the moment, are they? And I certainly wouldn’t mind having something to protect against the cold–”

That’s when the arrow hits the tree right above Shivu’s head.

*

Shivu wakes up with the worst headache of his life, vision clearing to reveal the monkey’s disapproving expression.

“I was honestly hoping to see Avantika rather than you,” he admits, and the monkey holds up a crushed flower in one paw, and a crushed leaf in the other: the antidote, Shivu assumes. That’s right; she’d drugged him before–-he scans his surroundings–-apparently disappearing into thin air….

The monkey crosses its arms and throws his clothes at him: a clear command. It turns its back to him, shuddering.

Shivu closes his eyes and wonders if it’s possible to perish of sheer mortification.

*

After the avalanche, Shivu does his best to take stock of the situation.

“Avantika’s hurt,” he says. “She can’t travel any further, but I can’t leave her here alone. You’ll have to stay with her, help her get back to her people.”

The monkey growls in faint protest, but subsides after a look at Avantika’s pale face. It slumps in defeat.

“I’ll go to Mahishmati in her place. Her mission will be mine.”

“I’m sorry,” Avantika interjects weakly, “but are you discussing this with your  _pet monkey_?”

The monkey makes an offended noise at the same time Shivu says, “He’s not my pet.”

“Well, that makes it all right, then,” she snaps. Shivu ignores her.

The monkey steps closer to him, paws on his shoulders, meeting his gaze with its own. It lets out a low, urgent rumble, and in defiance of all logic, Shivu understands it perfectly.

“I won’t fail in my mission,” Shivu promises it. “I’ll come back with the Queen Devasena.”

Satisfied, it releases him and retreats to stand by Avantika. Shivu gives it a nod, and Avantika one last lingering look, before starting on his way down the mountain towards Mahishmati.

*

Shivu is covered in mud, exhausted, and more confused than he’s ever been before, so of course the monkey is nowhere to be found. Or not by his eyes, at least.

“Your mother told me stories of your childhood, Shivu,” says his royal mother, the night before the planned invasion of the city.

“You may call me Mahendra if you like,” Shivu stammers, still shy around this stranger who suddenly means the world to him.

Queen Devasena smiles wryly. “It’s not a question of what I like, but what you prefer,” she says frankly, “and after all I’m quite accustomed to settling for calling people Shivu.”

“Oh,’ says Shivu, and then. “I hope Mother didn’t say anything too embarrassing.”

His royal mother shakes her head. “Not so. She spoke of the waterfall, your friends, some creature that you were convicted would bring you your heart’s desire–”

“You mean the monkey,” Shivu supplies. “He wasn’t any help in the end. I had to make it up the waterfall all myself–except he taught me how to use a bow, I must thank him for that.”

His royal mother blinks. “A monkey,” she repeats. “A monkey taught you how to use a bow.”

“I wasn’t very good at it,” Shivu admits, remembering her remarkable talent. “I was only five at the time, so–”

Devasena closes her eyes for a long moment. “There is a monkey,” she says at last, “that loiters around the camp–”

“He’s all right, then!” Shivu brightens. “I suppose he’s still angry at me. He was absolutely unreasonable when–um, nothing happened. Of any interest. Whatsoever.”

Much to his relief, his royal mother leaves him shortly thereafter.

*

Devasena pours the coals onto Bhallaladeva’s pyre carefully, and Shivu turns away, trying to find the monkey once more. It had reappeared to him in the midst of battle, bounding up out of nowhere to sink its teeth into Bhallaladeva’s neck just when Shivu found himself in greatest danger, and Shivu hasn’t seen it since. He hopes it isn’t hurt.

As though his thoughts had summoned it, it appears before him. Shivu’s limbs feel limp with relief; it appears unharmed, as far as he can tell.

Its gaze is fixed on a point somewhere behind Shivu; its expression is sad.

Bhallaladeva lets out a last anguished cry, and Shivu can’t resist peering back at him. Despite everything his uncle has done to him, he admits to some undeserved pity: the flames make for a dreadful death.

When he turns around, the monkey is gone.

In his place is a man with hair and beard both liberally streaked with grey, features all too familiar, and eyes that Shivu has looked into every day for twenty years.

If any doubt remains, his royal mother darts past him into the man’s arms. “I was right, I was right,” she breathes, “I hoped–-I prayed–-but it seemed too much to expect–-!”

“Magic cannot outlast its maker,” explains his father, apparently not much more talkative in human shape than when transformed. 

His eyes find Shivu’s as his hands stroke his wife’s hair; his voice rumbles his son’s name.

And suddenly Shivu realizes that perhaps he’s found his heart’s desire after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Māyin - (Sanskrit) magic, illusion.
> 
> Most of the blame for this goes to Sharme/queenofmahishmati, who first prompted me with Amarendra being turned into a monkey (and joined me in unholy amusement at "A MONKEY!" when we both found out what the original plan for Mahendra to be inspired to get up the waterfall was--admittedly, my trust in the makers of these films is such that I'm sure it would have worked nonetheless, but out of context, it sounds hilarious), and the rest is attributable to my questionable sense of humor. Thank you once again!


End file.
